What is it about this slow un-meshing, that separation, that unbending, untwisting, unfolding that is so hard, takes so long, is in itself a coming and going?
It happens at all levels, physical, soul, mind, energetically, changing the way of keeping space for and within.
It's like a fire that keeps reigniting itself but the flames are not as high, not as soaring, don't last as long before they fall back into glowing embers again. The times between ignitions increases, the heat of the flames, the glow of the embers gets less and less. It's like leaving happens before it has been thought of, thought into being.
Leaving is like removing tentacles, strings, lightwaves, tapestry strands one by one. There are so many. And yet, the act of removing them is in itself an act of coming together, coming closer, for if they are too stretched, they can't be unhooked.
Leaving is like doing and undoing, like making happen and unhappen, like writing and re-writing history. What is it about leaving that always leaves the sense of doing it too early or too late? Of doing it to someone or having it done to?
And at the best of times, there's a leaving that is also a returning,
a leaving to be able to come together more fully;
always knowing the risk of moving away too far to do so or with the knowledge that coming together again is meant to be;
always knowing that doubting develops a momentum of its own, that we can think and intent something into being.
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